Page 39 of Perfectly Petite Shorts (Perfect Pixie)

Hamish shook his head and the little spark of hope I’d allowed purchase was snuffed out. “Clarice v Boise.”

“What?”

“It was a case argued sixty-six years ago. A dryad sued the city of Boise claiming they had no right to the land her roots were born to, considering it would mean her death. Fairy law found in her favor. However, it was deemed only an acre necessary to keep Clarice alive. The city was only required to shift their plans for the freeway, not eliminate them completely. There is precedent, thus your argument would hold for an acre at most. Certainly not more than that.”

“But—”

“No tree, dryad or not, requires one hundred acres of land. While I will admit that your loophole has merit, it will only get you so far and certainly no farther.”

My hands fisted while anger and frustration wared with the heavy weight of loss. “It’s not right.”

“It’s the law,” Hamish coldly stated.

“Fuck the law!” I stood and paced. Pushing my hair behind an ear, small branches and twigs sprouted from my ear edges, my hair hopelessly catching in their twiggy web.

“The law is what maintains peace and order.” Again, there was no inflection in Hamish’s voice. It was simple fact and nothing more to him.

“Why do they get to decide?”

“Who? Jamila’s children?” Hamish asked as he calmly remained sitting where he was. “Because she deemed it so. From what I understand, Jamila left her land to her children, thus, it is their decision.”

I slapped a hand on my chest, my thrumming heart beating against it.

“But I’m her child too. She just didn’t know it before she died.

I…” Two steps brought me back to the chair, and I collapsed into it.

“She loved me. It was her love and magic that changed who I was and made me who I am. How is that any different than her other children?”

Head down, I stared at my fingers. They were no longer humanoid-shaped but twisted branches with delicate leaves. Focusing, I regained control, reforming my limbs into pink flesh. My eyes felt puffy, and my cheeks wet with the tears I hadn’t wanted to shed.

Furiously wiping the wetness from my face, I found the sudden silence irksome. Glancing up, I said, “What? Nothing to say? No sarcastic comeback?”

To my utter surprise, condescension wasn’t the expression twisting Hamish’s dashing features. Instead, there was something else… Something predatory.

“Repeat what you just said,” Hamish ordered .

I stared, lips parted and thoughts jumbled. “Which part?”

“The end,” he quickly answered.

My eyebrows scrunched as I struggled to remember my emotional tirade. “I said Jamila’s love and magic created me.”

“Yes, yes.” Hamish rolled his fingers in the air. “And then what?”

“I…I said how am I any different than Jamila’s other children?”

A wicked smile spread its way across Hamish’s face. That grin looked downright evil, and yet my heart pounded with excitement. That grin meant something. I don’t know how I knew, but I was certain that grin held the key to victory.

“How indeed,” Hamish whispered, his voice filled with anticipation. “How indeed.” Then Hamish said the words I longed to hear. “I’ll take your case.”

H amish

I’d heard many describe Fairy law as tricky. While I supposed it could be viewed this way, I saw it as a challenge. Its intricacies were a web one needed to navigate and tease their way through. It was a game I enjoyed playing, and right now I was pleasantly immersed in the hunt.

The first step was sending an immediate cease and desist order to the developer.

The land sale had already gone through, which would complicate our case, but only a little.

If I built Todrik’s case correctly, I’d prove the sale wasn’t lawful, and therefore the land would default back to Jamila’s heirs.

How would that help Todrik? He’d said it himself.

How did he differ from Jamila’s flesh-and-blood children?

Was he not a child of hers as well? Although his creation had been different, the result was the same.

Todrik viewed Jamila as his maker and mother.

The trick was getting the judge to agree.

I’d spent hours scouring past cases and couldn’t find precedence.

Being the first to argue such a case made my toes tingle.

The key was Jamila’s will. Fairy law gave me the right to read her will, and I was happy to say, Jamila Winsome did not disappoint.

Every species viewed death, the afterlife, and what they left behind differently. Human wills were subject to human law and tended to be far more specific in the naming of heirs and items, finances, and property allotted to each. Witches were different.

Witches spoke more in generalities. For instance, Jamila had left the contents of her home, her grimoires, and anything directly related to her craft to her coven. A specific member was not named as she viewed her witch knowledge available to every member.

Jamila had two biological children—both male.

While her male children could carry her witch genes and potentially pass them on to daughters, her sons could not manipulate magic.

Most likely, had Jamila birthed even a single daughter, her grimoires would have gone to her, but the remainder would have gone to her coven.

Just as Jamila hadn’t named specific members of her coven as heirs, she hadn’t specifically named her biological children in her will. Instead, the will simply said she bequeathed the land in question to her children.

Reading those precious words drew a sinister grin across my lips.

I didn’t fault Jamila’s lawyers. As I’d discovered, my argument would be without precedent.

Now, all I had to do was prove that Todrik was, in fact, legally considered Jamila’s child.

If the court agreed, then Todrik would be just as entitled to the land as her biological sons.

That would not completely solve Todrik’s problem. Even if the court agreed that Todrik was a legitimate heir, he’d still need to fight his brothers for the future of the land. I could easily see a judge divvying up the land, which wasn’t what Todrik wanted.

I tried to tell myself thoughts of a forlorn Todrik didn’t bother me, that once I proved he was Jamila’s child just as much as those who shared her blood, that my work would be done and I could wash my hands of the dryad.

But such thoughts constricted my chest and made my stomach queasy. It was ridiculous.

Leaning back, I allowed my chair to cushion my body.

Fairies didn’t suffer from the same aches and pains as lesser species.

That didn’t mean we could not become fatigued.

Todrik was constantly on my mind, and I found his continued presence exhausting.

It was infuriating knowing what the problem was and yet helpless to solve it.

My fascination with this little dryad was as confusing as it was vexing.

Tapping my fingers along my desk, the computer screen in front of me blurred.

Human technology did not work in Fairy, so I’d remained in the human realm to do my research.

The windows had grown dark since I’d started.

Checking the time, I realized it was late into the evening. Late enough that Dusk would be open.

I hesitated only a moment before reaching for my phone and dialing Dusk’s number. I did not recognize the voice that answered the call. I waited for them to get out their greeting before asking, “Is Wendall Galen working tonight?” Hearing the word, “yes” was all I needed before ending the call.

I could have been at Dusk immediately but chose to drive instead. Some fairies abhorred human technology. I was not one of them. There was something soothing in the sway of a well-made vehicle. Tonight, I desired that gentle distraction.

Rutherford Haven was a decent-sized town, though not nearly as large as some other Virginia cities. It was pleasant enough that I did not mind driving or walking its streets. The evening was an agreeable temperature, so I parked a few blocks from Dusk and walked toward its main doors.

The entrance line stretched down the street but not around the corner.

It was still a bit early for Dusk’s heavier crowd.

Walking toward the main door, the ogre bouncer gave me a grunt before allowing me entrance.

No one in line batted an eye that I’d gotten in before them.

Considering I was a fairy, they would have been incredibly foolish or greatly intoxicated to have done so.

Music thrummed inside, the bass reverberating through my chest. The feeling was just shy of unpleasant.

My eyes tracked the crowd and easily spotted Wendall’s dirty blond mop of hair.

A brown ball of deceivingly cute fluff was perched on his shoulder, Trinket’s tail wrapped around Wendall’s bicep.

The little scuttlebutt had already proven she’d rip the throat out of anyone that threatened her tribe.

I made my way to the bar. Johnny was on the riser, his elbows on the bar top as he leaned over, listening to a customer.

Johnny’s perpetual grin and good mood mystified me.

More often than not, fauns were like that.

They were a congenial species who enjoyed a good time. Running Dusk’s bar was an ideal fit.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leon sitting in the corner booth Lucroy used to occupy. Leon hadn’t taken over the Southeastern vampire nest, but Lucroy had ceded more power to his second. The Pallas’s cat lounging on the table beside him was his beloved, a pixie/shifter named Phlox.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Johnny’s voice somehow managed to be louder than the music.

“It’s been a hot minute since you graced us with your presence, Hamish.

” Johnny’s cheeky grin and even cheekier comment should have irked me, but it didn’t.

Johnny’s tone was welcoming and made me feel as if we were on friendly terms.